Consequences
by camnz
Summary: Hermione is acting funny, watching Malfoy during class and during dinner, and Ginny is urging Harry to do something. Surely Hermione couldn't be under the influence of a spell or a potion; she wasn't acting completely stupid, but then maybe she was too smart to show something like that.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Walking down the corridor to potions, Harry smiled at one of the passing Hufflepuff quidditch players. The season was heating up and the weather was cooling down. This was Harry's favourite part of the year. The whole school year lay ahead, quidditch was starting and the potions was much more bearable now that Snape was wasn't teaching it—Harry actually liked potions now.

The thought of Snape threatened his good mood, which he had learnt that he needed to nurture because the world outside was a scary place, which he would have to deal with soon enough—but not yet. He knew Snape would show his true colours before long and Harry was ready, even if Dumbledore insistent of Snape's mental torture sessions.

Harry hesitated as he saw Ginny standing in the middle of the hall in front of him, waiting with her hands on her hips. He knew that was either a 'I'm really angry with you' look or a 'you better do something about this' look. They'd been officially going out since the beginning of the year, and he both adored and feared her.

"There is something up with Hermione," Ginny said.

"Her homework not perfect enough?" Harry asked. "She can't keep track of the million classes she's taking?"

"At lunch, she was talking about how sunlight almost makes Malfoy's hair glow."

Harry's brows drew together. Hermione usually refused to talk about Malfoy at all, claiming Harry was obsessed with him. Surely just a passing comment. "Maybe it does," Harry said. Ginny's mouth pulled tighter.

"Harry! Don't be flippant when I say there is something wrong. I could have sworn she was watching for him."

"She'd probably researching hair spells or something," Harry said with a shrug, but Ginny gave him that pointed look again, like she expected him to do something—like he could do something about how Malfoy's hair shined.

Pushing open the door that led to Slughorn's classroom, Harry walked over to their table, tensing as he walked past the Slytherins—he always did. Malfoy was sitting in his usual seat, looking surly and displeased as usual. Walking past, Harry smiled tightly; he liked it when Malfoy looked displeased—a small victory over his long standing foe.

Hermione was sitting in her chair, her hair tied back in a pony-tail. Looking up, he met her clear brown eyes. "How are you?" he asked.

"Fine." Looking through her bag, she brought out her parchment and quill, and placed them like she always did in preparation for class. "Do you think it's going to be a talking day or a doing day?"

"Doing, I hope."

"You always want the doing." Placing her bag down on the floor, she casually turned around to look behind them, biting her lip as she did. That was unusual behaviour.

"Anything up?" he asked. Hermione's eyes sharply returned to him.

"No," she said and turned away. Ron arrived, throwing his bag down on the table on the other side of her.

"Ran into Faldinger," he said, talking about the Ravenclaw goal keeper. "He's a complete shit. Thinks they've got Saturday's game in the bag." Ron's red face showed that Faldinger had really gotten to him, but then everyone got to Ron.

Slughorn started the class and Harry's hissed a quiet 'yes' when it turned out to be a doing day and they gathered ingredients and started the cooking. He caught Hermione sneaking another glance at Malfoy while cutting a mandrake root. Maybe she was doing a project on hair, he told himself.

Ginny nudged him while he was eating his dinner, starving after a long quidditch practice. "She's doing it again."

"So," Harry said, getting annoyed by the day's ongoing topic. "So what if she's watching him. I'm sure she has a reason." He turned to look at Hermione who was running a knuckle along her cheeks and lips.

"I think she's under the influence of something."

"Like what?"

"A love potion or something."

"She's not. That's not what they're like. Remember when George gave that Hufflepuff girl a love potion so she'd obsess with Fred, she was all googly eyed, there was no doubt. Hermione's not."

"Yeah, but she's not just some girl—she's a lot more sneaky."

"Hermione is not losing the plot over Malfoy," Harry said dismissively, but then saw her breath hitch and he turned to see Malfoy walking into the room. Surely she didn't have a crush on Malfoy—that would be insane, but equally, she wasn't acting like she was under a spell or a potion. "Just keep an eye on her tonight." Harry grew suspicious—maybe Malfoy was up to something, trying to charm Hermione. But she was too smart to fall for something like that. Merlin, he hated Malfoy—the utter twat. Malfoy wasn't on the quidditch team this year, but little explanation had been given why. Harry had been annoyed that he'd been robbed of the opportunity to clobber him properly during a game. But Malfoy had changed this year; he wasn't his usual annoying self, being more distant and remote, unimpressed with everything, like he was too good to be a bully. He didn't even give Harry his usual snarky looks, just ignored him like he wasn't there. It was out of character. Hermione could not be falling for his broodiness, but then girls were funny.

Sitting down on the couch after doing the rounds with Padma, Harry finally relaxed. He would sleep like a log that night, but there was still homework to do. He couldn't be stuffed. It would just have to wait. He would have to get up early and do it before class. His mind wasn't working right now and a whip couldn't get it going again.

"Harry," Ginny said sharply, making him jump. "She's gone."

"What?"

"Hermione, she's gone."

Harry tied to get his mind to process what Ginny was saying. Something is wrong. "Are you sure she's not in the library?" he asked, but realised it was closed. "Damn it," he said, dragging himself out of the seat. Hermione was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and there was a part of him that just wanted to leave it and sleep, but he knew he wouldn't sleep now. "Where's Ron?"

"Trying to do his charms homework."

"Get him, we better search for her."

Searching the castle and not finding her anywhere make Harry worried. They even recruited the elves to help, but they couldn't find her anywhere. Harry was getting proper worried now. "I think we have to wake McGonnagal."

They belayed their concerns and Hermione's distance during the day and they followed as McGonnagal marched over to Slughorn's quarters. "We need to check if one of the Slytherin students is present and accounted for," she said after knocking on Slughorn's door.

Slughorn was clearly annoyed with being disturbed, but he conceded after drawing in a heavy disapproving breath and exhaling it again. "Fine," he said and pulled a dressing down on. "Follow me."

They followed as he walked to the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and waited as Slughorn went in. He looked worried when he returned and Harry felt icy fingers creep up his spine. "Malfoy is not here.

"Where is he?" McGonnagal challenged, but Slughorn had no answer for her.

"We have to find her," Harry urged. "He could have taken her. He could be torturing her, taking her to Voldemort."

"Malfoy has not taken her to Voldemort," McGonnagal said reassuringly, like it was a ridiculous notion, but he also heard an edge of uncertainty in her voice. Turning to Slughorn, she continued quietly, "We better wake the headmaster."

When Dumbledore came down to greet the concerned parties standing in his study, he listened then ordered Harry, Ginny and Rob back to their common room, giving Harry that look that said he would not be swayed. The professors conferred amongst each other and Dumbledore gave him a pointed look, chasing him out of the study.

"Come, Harry," Ginny said, pulling on his hand, "They will look for her."

"We can't just wait."

"We have to."

"I'm checking the chamber," he said and felt Ginny tense. "I have to."

"It's been blocked."

"I'm checking it anyway."

"Fine, let's go," Ron said. "Ginny, you go back to the common room, in case she returns. I'll grab my broom."

Harry was already running to the second floor girls' bathroom where the entrance to the chamber was. The black hole opened like it had done before and Harry jumped down, illuminating his wand. Searching through the rumble, he found that the blockage was complete and there was no way inside.

"Come on, mate," Ron said after a while. "They're not in there."

"I should have listened," Harry said quietly. "Ginny knew something was wrong and I should have listened."

"Hermione should have told us. She shouldn't have kept secret whatever this was, and why would she be stupid enough to go off with Malfoy? What was she thinking?"

"She might not have been," Harry said, recalling Ginny's suspicion that Hermione was under the influence of a love potion. He was going to fucking kill Malfoy if he ever saw him again.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione's mind clouded over as Draco's tongue invaded her mouth. They'd found a soft but stale mattress in the room of requirements. She felt his entire body along hers and she wanted more. His hand had stolen under her shirt and was cupping her breast over her bra.

"Now that is a bit more sexy than I had been anticipating," he said. "Miss Granger, have you been hiding lingerie under your robes all this time?"

"It's just a bra. And how long have you been wondering what I've been wearing under my robes?"

A sly grin spread across his mouth and she felt a rush of heat down into her core, making her pulse for him. Without losing eye contact, his hand travelled around her back and slowly unhooked the bra, moving back to tease her sensitive skin. Her pulses escalated a bit as his eyes broke with hers and travelled down to her mouth. Her lips were burning with kisses, but she couldn't get enough. She was ready to give everything to him. She'd been here before, with a guy lying on top of her, but had never gone further.

As he descended down on her, plundering her mouth, his hand snuck down between her knees and travelled up, under her skirt. She had to stop herself from squirming. She wanted him to touch her and gasped sharply as he did.

"I think you're gagging for me, Granger."

"Shut up."

His knee burrowed between hers and she relented, feeling the pressure of him at the apex of her thighs as he lay down again. She was burning up and wet, feeling incredible tension that needed resolving.

Taking his time, he undid the buttons of her shirt and stroked his hand across the smooth skin of her belly, before moving lower. Hermione wasn't entirely sure what he was doing and felt a lump of nervousness in her throat as he started pulling her underwear down. She couldn't believe this was happening, and she had certainly not been expecting it to be with him, but that was how it was and she couldn't regret it.

Unknown sensation flooded through her as his mouth closed around her little nub by her entrance, his tongue stroking her. It was unbearable, but she wouldn't stop it for the world. His teasing promised so much, but it didn't give her everything she needed. She wasn't entirely sure what she needed, but this, as amazing as it was, wasn't enough.

Then he shifted, moving up to her again and kissed her, his tongue exploring deep into her mouth. She felt pressure down in her core again and it took her a moment to realise what it was. This was it; she was losing her virginity. He pushed in and she suppressed a squirm to try to relieve the tension. Then a sharp push and pain rip though her.

"Hush," he said, stroking his fingers down her face until she calmed and let him capture all of her attention. The pain relented, being replaced by a dull throb. She was pleased and proud that she had given it to him. She wanted to give everything to him.

To her amazement, he was buried inside of her. He kissed her lightly then moved. There was still some pain, but an unbelievable sensation emerged underneath it, growing. As he stopped, it dissipated and she wanted it back. Then he moved again, shifting her leg to give him deeper access. Rich, deep sensation flooded her body, making her arch into his steady pounding.

"Don't fight it," he urged.

She didn't know exactly what he meant, but she tried to let it evolve as it would. Tension built further and she couldn't take any more. She was about to ask him to stop when her body pulsed so strongly, she was worried something had gone wrong. Her eyes flew open as it evolved and she realised she was experiencing the big 'O' so often discussed in muggle women's magazines, and it was fantastic. She didn't want it to end, but she was exhausted and breathless.

Draco strained hard into her. He was coming. She knew this could get her pregnant, but she didn't care. She wanted to have a baby with him. She wanted anything of his. She just wanted him, and having a part of him inside her felt right.

He collapsed down on top of her breathing heavily. The weight of him was lovely, pushing her down into the mattress, making her feel loved and cherished. This whole thing was awesome, and they could do it again and again, forever.

"We have to keep moving," Draco said, looking down at the evolving map as he sat next to her on the mattress. Hermione lay naked, luxuriating in the feel of her body and the desire in her core that wouldn't give. "This map is ingenious." Setting it aside he kissed her, melding into her eager welcome. Hermione lost her ability to think when he kissed her; maybe even when he wasn't. They'd hid in the Room of Requirements for a while, but it was now becoming apparent that it was an obvious place to look. But they'd had a good two hours of uninterrupted time to themselves.

Sighing into the kiss, Draco pulled away. "We have to get out of here. Sooner or later, they're going to find us."

"The anti-apparition covers far into the forest," Hermione said, watching Draco's eyes.

"We can't fly."

"I hate flying."

"Maybe because no one has shown you how it's done," Draco said, pulling her down underneath him. Hermione wanted to do that again. She was sore, but couldn't care less. All she wanted was him—this light feeling that stole through her whole body, filling her with warmth and heady desire. He kissed her again. She just wanted to be away from here so they could be together again, without people chasing them.

The alert in the back of her mind finally pierced through the haze of pleasure. "We have to do something."

"You know this is a love potion," Draco said, resting on her chest, his hand traveling down her side. "It isn't real."

"It feels real."

"It will go away with the antidote."

"I don't want it to go away. I don't want to lose you. Do you?"

"But it isn't real. We don't even like each other. You don't like me. I can't stand you," he said and she smiled. "I really can't stand you—the way your hair escapes, like it refuses to be tamed. Like you refuse to be tamed." His fingers stroked down the side of her cheek and he leaned forward to kiss her again, and she feels the endorphins flood her brain.

"I don't want to stop feeling like this—about you."

"Even if you know you wouldn't feel that way otherwise?"

"Who's to say that this is worthless because it was induced? I want to be in love with you, and I'll maintain this if you will."

"Then we have to escape. They will strip the potion from us if they catch us." Draco pulled back and Hermione groaned with the loss of him. "We have to go. Where is the map? I think we have to go through the forest."

"You're so take charge."

"And you're so bossy."

Hermione needed his body again and her kiss was forcefully returned, before Draco wretched himself away. "Stop distracting me. I'm trying to save us."

Taking her hand, he pulled her along, our of the room and down one of the staircases, which seemed to form a clear path outside from what they could tell on the map. Hermione's heart was pounding as they ran outside as quietly as they could. "Where are we going to go?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. Somewhere. Father would not exactly understand. We have to go far—Europe maybe."

"I love Europe."

"Good. We might be there for a while."

They kept running until they reached the forest. Hermione felt Draco tense and he was right to do so. She wished she could make him stop, but she knew more than most that there were dangers in the forest.

"There you are," Hermione heard as she felt a force around her waist, yanking her away.

"No Hagrid," she called desperately. "Let me go."

"The headmaster wishes a word with you."

Draco whipped around drawing his wand.

"You going to fight me, Malfoy?" Hagrid asked, amusement lacing his voice.

"Let her go."

"Not today, seeing as you are both out of your minds. You'll see that soon enough."

"I don't want to hurt you," Draco warned.

"Don't hurt him, Draco!" Hermione yelled. "He thinks he's doing this for the best. He doesn't understand. Don't hurt him."

Draco shot a hex at Hagrid, which he deflected with his encase wand. "Now, now, none of that." Hermione felt Hagrid move, swinging and hitting Draco, who flew, hitting the ground, winding him. "Expected you might be trouble." Pulling on a belt, he pulled off a set of chains and had one around Draco's wrist before Draco had his breath back.

"Stop Hagrid, you have to let us go. I am ordering you to let us go," Hermione said, struggling against the iron strong grip that kept her over Hagrid's shoulder.

"You'll thank me in the morning," he said and started walking, large steps swaying her as she continued to struggle fruitlessly. "Someone's played a good trick on you and you must both be brought to your senses before there's real trouble."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Reaching the Hogwarts quad, they were met by Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonnagal.

"Come with me, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. Hermione thought about being defiant, but she was too mature to be childish in front of the esteemed headmaster, as she knew there was no way they were going to leave her as she was. They were going to clear this potion out of her system and there was nothing she could do about it.

Swallowing hard, she moved as they urged her forward, looking back at Draco, who seemed more willing to do this the hard way. Professor Snape was standing with him, ready to interfere if needed. Draco's people were likely less understanding of him wanting to keep the potion in his system.

"Draco," she called, suddenly scared about what she was going to lose now—him. She was going to be alone again. But it wasn't real and she knew that, not knowing the value she truly placed on it—likely very little when the antidote cleared the potion away.

They walked to Dumbledore's office and Professor McGonnagal said goodnight as the staircase started ascending.

"I understand it has been a trying day," he said as they walked into his study. He walked towards a cabinet and removed a small vial, which he placed on his desk. Hermione followed its progress with her eyes, knowing it was the thing that would kill the love she felt.

"Where is Draco?"

"He is being attended to by Professor Snape."

Hermione nodded, wondering if he'd taken the antidote yet, if their connection had been broken and she was the one left in love.

Dumbledore walked to the cabinet again and withdrew another vial, returning to place it next to the other. Hermione didn't know what it was, but she knew it was in her best interest. Getting rid of this potion was in her best interest; it fogged her mind, created untrue feelings that consumed and absorbed her. Yet she still didn't want to lose it. A love potion was easy—there were no questions. With the potion, she loved Draco and Draco loved her.

"I don't want to take that," she said.

"But it is the potion speaking through you, saying that. The inauthenticity of this will prey on you—I suspect it already does. It will only grow over time. You are not the kind of person who could put their head in the sand and ignore that fact. After a while, you will grow resentful, wanting to know your true self and true feelings. A potion cannot compete with that."

Hermione looked away, knowing what he said was true. "I just don't want to lose this," she said quietly.

"I know, but you will likely not feel that way in a few minutes. Do you know who did this to you?"

She shook her head, not having even considered how this came to be.

"Likely a prank. We have experienced such things before; the unlikeliest of people being thrust together against their wills. Young people see it as a prank, but it is a violation of the victims. You should take the antidote now."

Hermione frowned. She didn't want to. It felt like she was giving up on Draco, throwing him away like he meant nothing. She wanted to cry. But she also knew that now was the time when she needed to be practical. Taking the antidote was the right thing to do, the reasonable thing to do. "He is going to hate me, isn't he?"

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, considering her. She wanted him to be reassuring, but knew he wouldn't give her false hope. "Will you hate him?"

No, was the immediate answer that flew into her mind, but might be the potion acting on her. Searching her mind, she tried to reason through how she would actually feel. "I don't hate him."

"He is not at fault, being a victim of circumstance, just like you are."

"I am not a victim."

"No, you are not," he said with a smile. "Now drink the antidote."

Hermione stared at it for a moment, knowing refusing was pointless and immature. Reaching for the vial, it felt like poison in her hand. Slowly, she uncorked the vial and brought it to her mouth, pausing for a moment before letting the liquid pour into her mouth. It was sweet and it tingled on her tongue. It flowed through her veins with a rush, like only magic could, stripping the warm, fuzzy and urgent sensation that had settled into every part of her. She felt cold and analytical afterwards. The feelings were cleared away and she was slightly surprised that none of it had been real.

"And the other," Dumbledore said."

Hermione considered asking what it was, but decided she didn't want to know. If it had been anyone else, she would have, but she trusted Dumbledore implicitly. Taking the vial, she swallowed its contents.

Dumbledore smiled at her. "I suggest you return to your dorm and sleep. I believe it would be understandable if you were to miss some of your early classes tomorrow. You are likely to feel a bit depleted."

Hermione nodded and turned to leave.

Harry, Ron and Ginny was sitting in the common room, waiting for her. They all got up in a rush when they saw her.

"We heard they'd found you," Harry said. Then there was an awkward silence. "Where were you?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, feeling exhausted.

"Of course," Harry said, looking blustered. "We're just glad it's all sorted. We were worried about you."

She nodded and moved onto the staircase leading to the girl's dorm, which was dark as she entered, followed by Ginny.

Getting into bed, Hermione lay back, placing her arm around her head. She felt like crying, but knew that Ginny would be listening. She felt empty, stripped of the powerful emotions she had been subject to for a couple of days. She couldn't even address how she felt about Draco, deciding not to think about it. After a while, she decided on a sleeping potion, which knocked her out of the night.

The dorm was empty by the time she woke. Checking the clock, she saw that breakfast had already started, and she was famished, having barely eaten the day before. She wasn't going to suffer through to lunch, so dragged herself out of bed.

Dumbledore was right about her feeling depleted, like the antidote, or the love potion had stripped her brain completely of endorphins and serotonins. There must be a hang over to this thing, she decided. It could be considered a drug after all, some hyped up version of ecstasy. She was going to think of it that anyway. She would feel better tomorrow.

Dressing, she made it downstairs. The hall silenced as she walked into the room. Apparently everyone knew what had happened, she supposed. This must be what Harry felt like when everyone watched him with awkward suspicion. Straightening her spine, she walked into the hall, her footsteps echoing off the walls. She refused to look over at the Slytherin table to see if he was there, or even to see the expressions of the Slytherins. Pansy was likely to murder her if no one else. They could actually have been an item for all she knew. They had been at some point, but Hermione wasn't sure. She didn't make it her business what Draco did with him love life.

Hermione wasn't ready to deal with all that crap; she could deal with that tomorrow once she was past the physical hang over.

"Moine," Harry said with an edge of faux cheeriness. "Alright?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting down next to Ron. "I'm rather hungry."

"Did you eat at all yesterday?" Ron asked.

"I don't think I did."

"I couldn't do that," Ron said. "I couldn't go a whole day without eating."

Then silence descended on the table and they all started eating, followed by everyone else in the hall. Hermione breathed out a sigh as the moment seemed to have passed. She really wanted to just grab her food and run back upstairs, pulling the blanket over her head and blocking out the world, but she would only be extending this. The sooner she acted normal, the sooner everyone else would forget about this thing—determining there was nothing more to see to this train wreck, provided Draco didn't kick up a stink about it.

She had no idea how Draco would react. This might be even worse for him. She was with him, which was disturbing and amusing, while he was with someone he categorically saw as untouchable. Hermione forced down a bit of porridge. But they had touched. She wondered if everyone knew it. Would there be anyone who didn't realise that she'd slept with Draco Malfoy. They had been under the influence of a love potion and alone. What were the chances that she would have remained a virgin? She could practically hear the speculation.

Her headache only grew and she excused herself after breakfast was over, returning to bed and drawing the blanket over her head. She would feel better tomorrow. Right now, she just needed to sleep and recover. She wanted to go home. It was rare that she wanted to go home, but the comforts of her own room, and solitude really called. Here, the only place of solitude was the library, which might not be a bad thing, because she had quite a bit of work to get on with.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Draco paced around his room, anger dripping off him. He was going to murder whoever had done this—a hex so painful they'd be telling their grandchildren about it. He would find whoever had done this and they would pay.

Snape had been intensely watchful him over the last few days—reiterating that he couldn't punish Granger for this. Like he gave a damned about Granger, the mudblood extraordinaire. Unlike some of the speculation in his house, he didn't think Granger had done this to have him. He and Granger seemed to have settled on some kind of truce this year; he didn't give a fuck about her and she pretended that he didn't exist. It worked well. He had bigger things to worry about, and Granger's life was going to get difficult enough before long without him having to add to it. If she didn't understand the direction things were going in, she wasn't going to last long. There were a lot of people for whom she was right on top of the hit list—headed for pain as soon as things really started.

Turning, he stood and watched the ceiling above him, the dark green diffused light of the lake undulating with the water above it. A note formed on the ceiling and Draco closed his eyes as it meandered its down to the ground. He just wanted to be left alone.

_Your father wants to see you. Snape_

Throwing the note in the fire, Draco pretended it had never come. He hated going to Azkaban to see his father, or maybe it was just his father he hated; he couldn't really tell which these days.

No doubt the school would have informed his parents what had happened. For a second he wondered what Granger's parents would have thought, wondering if at some point they debated about whether they should actually keep their daughter in this school—particularly now that she had been unwittingly deflowered by the school bully. Draco chuckled. As angry as he was, he could see the irony in it.

He started pacing again, bored and restless, but he stayed in his rooms, hiding from the stares and the whispers, which started every time something happened. People trying to see a reaction in him, or an indication of what Voldemort's shadow regime was thinking—like he was privy to that.

A quick rap on the door told him that Snape was outside. Only Snape knocked like that, like he was offended by having to be there.

"Fuck off," Draco called, knowing Snape was never be put off that easily.

"Your mother is here," Snape's crisp tones were heard through the door. Draco let his head drop back and groaned. "At your leisure, your presence is requested in Professor Dumbledore's office. The sarcasm came through clearly in Snape's voice.

Draco sat down on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, wishing everyone could leave him to deal with this. Grudgingly he got up and made his way out of the Slytherin common room, pushing a third year out of his way.

He could hear his mother's angry tones as soon as he made it to the staircase.

"My husband is furious," she stated. "Wondering if there are no controls at all at his school."

"Mother," he said when he entered the study.

"Draco, darling," she said, standing over and rushing to him. "I am so sorry this happened to you. It is unforgivable. You should have better control of your students, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Unwitting of the distress caused to the victims, children have a habit to play pranks on each other, just as they did in your time here. It is unfortunate and this will be investigated thoroughly. Professor Snape—" the Professor said.

"This is hardly a prank, Mr. Dumbledore. I'm not sure I can keep him here if this is how the place is run. And I don't understand how you can be so dismissive about it, my son has practically been raped."

"Hardly, mother," Draco said.

"This could have serious consequences. Has anyone seen to that?"

"Any such inevitabilities has been prevented," the Professor said.

This was news to Draco. Truthfully he hadn't considered that there would be consequences, but now that it was mentioned, he was glad there would be no such complexities. It was just too outlandish a suggestion to realistically consider.

Narcissa stared harshly at Professor Dumbledore, then turned her attention back to her son. "Are you alright, my darling? I am so angry."

"Don't be, mother. It's actually been helpful. A couple more and I can claim to have slept with every girl in my year. Granger would have been—" He dodged the half-hearted slap his mother was aiming at him.

"This is serious, Draco."

"No, it's not, mother."

"Your father wants to see you."

Draco ignored the statement.

"You are going to hear from our solicitors, Mr. Dumbledore," she said tartly. "This is not the end." Turning back to him, she took him by the arm. "Walk me out."

His mother prattled on about his father and Draco grinned and bore it. Like hell he would go to Azkaban so his father can rave about how awful the world was and the disrespect that had been levelled at their family. His father would overreact more than his mother would.

At the edge of the school grounds, she turned and looked at him.

"You are getting so big," she said with a smile, running her palm down his cheek.

"Mother," he complained.

"Humour me Draco. In my mind it was only last week you were five."

"You have to be careful. These are dark times and there are many who seek to hurt us. For all we know, this is part of that."

"I seriously doubt it," Draco said dismissively. Anyone who thought Granger would let herself be used in that way didn't know her at all. And the goodie goodies didn't play with such dirty tactics. And even if they did, they didn't think he would be swayed by that, did they?

She kissed him before disapparating. Draco finally let the plastered smile slide off his face. He could well imagine how mental Aunt Bella would be reacting, hoping she had an apoplectic fit—ideally one that would kill her. He could manage his mother, but Bella was just too mental to manage. Closing his eyes, he was glad this disruption was over, letting him get back to his own plans.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting in the quad when he returned. "I am encouraged to hear that these unfortunate events have not had a disaffecting impact on you."

"I'm still going to find whoever did this and strip their skin," he said harshly.

"I hope you don't mean literally, Mr. Malfoy. These are children after all."

Draco walked past the man and kept walking, back to his room. Dumbledore was wrong; they weren't children anymore. Maybe Dumbledore was too feeble brained to realise that.

Sitting in the Great Hall, he watched as Granger made her way into the room, the hall silencing as he walked in. He looked down at his food as everyone's would be seeking a reaction from him. He chuckled slightly, thinking that he'd actually slept with Granger. And she'd been a virgin. He didn't know if he was surprised or not. On one level he wasn't; she would hold her virginity as precious, and really, Potter and Weaselby obviously didn't know what to do with it.

Granger, who'd spread her legs so sweetly. He wondered if she was mortified by what she'd done. He hadn't really asked himself how he felt about it, instead focusing on the anger he felt that someone had dared to impose this on him. He knew enough to know that it was someone in this room. It wasn't something that would have come from the crap brewing outside of the school. But someone here thought they could jerk him around and get away with it. He would find them, and he would think of something creative to do to them. Something involving pain, potentially nudity, definitely embarrassing.

As for Granger, he didn't quite know what to do with her. He hadn't made up his mind. The one thing he did want was for the mental adults to stay out of it, out of the school. This was a school issue and needed to be handled as such; he'd be damned if they used it as something to pry this open to inject their shit.

Granger sat down, ignoring everything around her. He could see her trying to keep her head high, baring the attention and embarrassment with dignity. He didn't know what to do with her. Their truce had stood since the beginning of the year and he wasn't sure he wanted to mess with it. He could go after her, punish her for something that he was pretty sure she had no hand in. If she'd wanted him, he would have picked up on it before now. She was interested in the red headed waste of space—why, he had no idea. There was no accounting for taste, and her taste was obviously off. Even Potter was better than Weaselby.

Finishing his meal, he left. If he kicked off a revenge incursion against Granger, he didn't quite know where that would end up, but he didn't need the mind bender, knowing it would turn into a complete mind-fuck war. There was something in him itching for the fight, and if things weren't ready to kick off everywhere else, he would seriously consider it. As it was, he had too much else going on to deal with Granger. He would let this pass, he decided, and she didn't know how lucky she was.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione kept her head down, did her work and studied. She spent the evenings in the library. People still watched her, but she refused to give them a reaction. She had periods when she just wanted to go home. Christmas couldn't come soon enough. She wanted to be away from here, go shopping with her mum and maybe watch a movie at the cineplex. The hustle and bustle of London and the crowded anonymity held strong appeal at the moment.

She'd told her parents she had no memory of it and they believed her. It was easier that way. At one point she wondered if it really would be easier to forget the whole thing, adjust her memory so she really didn't. But something stopped her. Perhaps because memory charms could go so drastically wrong.

She pretended that Draco wasn't there, and he returned the same sentiment. He sat in class, surly and arrogant. Well, at least he hadn't come out and hexed her—that was something anyway.

Funnily, Snape was wary around her. She felt him watching her and it wasn't a feeling she liked. She'd stopped putting her had up in his class a while ago and he'd continued to ignore her in a consistent fashion. His opinion of her was blatantly clear.

All in all, this was not the most pleasant time she'd had at Hogwarts. She just wanted to get her joy back, feel the sense of amazement that magic always gave her.

Speaking of amazement, there was the whole sex thing, which was completely confusing. It had been fantastic and she couldn't figure out what part of that was the potion and what wasn't. Would she have that with someone else if she was in love with them? Or was that something unique to Draco? It would be awful if it was.

There was no hiding that she felt very curious about it, but there was no one she could take to about it, particularly under the circumstances.

Ron entered the classroom with Harry and threw his bag down in the desk. He hated this class, double DDA with Snape. Malfoy in the back, giving them filthy looks all the time, looking smug. Actually, he had been a bit distracted of late, letting his filthy look campaign slip a bit. If he so much looked at Hermione, Ron would deck him.

Cursing, Ron sat down and pulled out his parchment for notes, which was really for doodling. He would have been more motivated to learn if anyone else was teaching this class. He'd even come to enjoy potions now that Slughorn was teaching it. Slughorn was a good teacher. Why had they been stuck with Snape all these years?

Hermione was sitting between them like she always did, her parchment, quill and ink prepared for copious note taking.

They hadn't really spoken lately and he didn't know what to say to her. Instead, he just absentmindedly followed her orders as they spent the afternoon charming a box to be unbreakable, which was a pointless activity. Snape was possibly worse than Umbridge as a teacher. Other than brooding and snarling, what good was he? He was motivated to teach them as little as possible, wasn't he? How could they trust anything he thought them?

He survived the afternoon my thinking of Quidditch moves, searching for new moves he could practice and use to impress the crowd. If things weren't heading pear-shaped, he'd seriously think about going professional in the future. But things didn't seem to be going that way. He tried not to think about the future at all, suspecting it was marginally worse than the present.

Hermione was her usual self, like nothing had happened.

"You can't just charm the lock, Ron. You have to charm the whole box."

"Who cares about some bleedin box? If you're stupid enough to leave your stuff in a box, you deserve to lose it."

Both Harry and Hermione was looking at him, surprised and confused by his outburst.

"No, you care about your marks," Hermione said pointedly.

"On what planet is Snape going to give either of us a good mark?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed like a fish. At least that shut her up for a moment. For once, she couldn't argue with his logic.

Class was finally over and he roughly shoved his parchment in his bag.

"Bring your boxes to the front and leave them, where I will test them and your marks will be determined by the security of your box," Snape said in his nasally drawl. Ron picked up his box under one arm and carried it to Snape's desk. "Somehow I don't have high expectations," Snape said snidely to Ron. Ron ignored the comment, wishing he could say something smart back. Sometimes he wished Hermione would just rip into him, but she was always too concerned about her marks to tell the Professors where to stick it.

Ron bumped into Malfoy as he turned around, tensing and gritting his teeth. He wished he could just hex the bastard. Something deeply embarrassing, and dismanning. Anger and disgust washed through him, but he bit down and kept walking. Snape would come to his rescue here.

At least he had quidditch practice this afternoon, where he would burn some of his anger and tension. There were balls he could pummel and team mates he could aim for. Their game with the Slytherins wasn't on for a while yet. Malfoy had missed a few games, but Ron hoped he would play when they were meeting, but then he would wuzz out, wouldn't he?

It was raining heavily, but Ron didn't care. Water was running down his eyes, but he played like a man possessed, getting every ball that came even close to one of the goals. Nothing was going to get passed him.

Even though he was exhausted, his foul mood refused to let. Emerging warm and clean from the changing rooms, he followed the others to dinner in the Great Hall.

Hermione wasn't there and he automatically looked for Malfoy, who was sitting in his usual spot. Again, Ron wanted to strangle him, but instead had to contend with sticking a fork sharply into a sausage.

Hermione finally walked into the hall, looking practically serene and unconcerned.

"How was the library?" Harry said, sliding over for her.

"It doesn't really change much." She started gathering food on her plate. Roast beef. She was particularly fond of roast beef. And she would pour gravy half on the potatoes and half off so she could choose if she wanted any with every bite.

Ron watched her eating. She looked so content.

"So what are you going to do about Malfoy?" he said.

"Malfoy? What am I supposed to do about him?"

"I don't know. Maybe more than you are."

"Like what, Ron?" she said sharply.

"You act like everything is fine. Like you have no problem with what he did."

"Neither I nor Malfoy is responsible with what happened."

"So, you're just alright with it?"

"Hang on, Ron," Harry interjected.

"No. She acts like she's completely fine with it. Have you always had a crush on Malfoy?"

Hermione stared at him, shocked and frozen. "How exactly am I supposed to act?"

"A little more like it bothers you."

"Because for some reason I owe you proof on how I feel about it? I don't owe you anything, Ron!" she said, her voice rising.

"It's what everyone thinks."

"You're out of order, Ron," Harry said.

"She's not trying to do anything about it."

"What is she supposed to do?"

"Object," Ron said sternly.

"I'm out of here," Hermione said, throwing her fork down in disgust.

"Oh, well done," Harry said sarcastically.

"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking."

Harry got up and left, following Hermione who was striding out of the Great Hall.

"What is wrong with you?" Ginny said, giving him a disappointed look that looked disturbingly like their mother's.

"What is wrong with her?" he muttered under his breath as he took another bite of his sausage. She was the one walking around like she was the cat that got the cream, like she didn't mind that she'd been carrying on with Malfoy in the most disgusting way. It was revolting and she was acting like it was all fine. They were under the influence of a potion, so it was all excusable. Maybe there hadn't really been a potion.

He lost his appetite and he was angry about it. He'd been robbed of his appetite as well. Walking out of the castle into the cool air outside, he walked around the dark and quiet quidditch pitch, knowing Harry was likely be waiting to have a word with him back in the common room, or Hermione waiting to rip into him. It would be nice to think so, that she actually objected to someone abusing her, because she didn't seem a bit bothered that Malfoy had had his paws all over her. She hadn't shed a single tear or uttered a the barest protest at being used that way.

Ron kicked a clump of grass, sending the grass leaves flying. Anger still coursed through his veins and it wasn't letting. The worst was that he wasn't sure things could ever go back to the way things were and she had to take some of the blame for it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

Hermione sat down by the lake, throwing rocks into the dark, calm water, disturbing the surface that was already under pitted from the drizzle that had set in earlier in the week. The air was cold enough that her breath condensed with every exhale. The crisp cold was exactly what she needed. It cleared her mind.

"Hey," Harry said, sitting down next to her. "Ron's just being a prick. He doesn't actually think that."

"Yes, he does."

"He's having trouble coping with it," Harry said, laying back on his elbow and crossing his legs. "You shouldn't take it to heart."

"What way am I supposed to take it, when one of my best friends accuses me of being responsible for something I have no power over?"

"I know."

"And everyone is staring at me all the time."

"At least they don't think you're some attention seeking psychopath."

"I'm sure Ron does. I feel so betrayed. I thought we were supposed to back each other up when things like this happen, but perhaps that only extends to you."

Harry looked torn and uncertain, not quite knowing what to say. "I think Ron is just having trouble with the consequences of this potion, and the fact that is was Malfoy. He wouldn't be happy with anyone, but particularly Malfoy, who's been on Ron's case ever since the moment we started here."

"He's been on my case too."

"You should talk to Ron."

"No," Hermione said flatly, not sure she would ever be able to forgive Ron for this. "I won't tolerate my friends turning on me like that."

"He's just venting."

"That's not good enough."

"Come on, Mione, see it from his perspective. Your relationship has been kind of special and he's …" Harry drifted off. "How would you feel if Ron had gone off with Pansy Parkinson?"

"I didn't go off with Malfoy; I was under the control of a love potion, and I would understand what that meant. I wouldn't blame Ron."

Harry's shoulders sunk and Hermione knew he was trying to patch this over, but the cracks were too large. "I just don't think this is worth blowing your relationship over. Ron is a pig headed idiot, but he's only reacting like this because he cares about you."

"That's bullshit, Harry," Hermione said and rose, wiping any leaves off her backside. Wrapping her cardigan around her, she started walking back to the castle. She was even a little hurt that Harry was trying to get her to excuse Ron's atrocious behaviour. She still wished to go home, get away from all this crap.

Marching back up the stairs, she ignored the stares and whispers as she passed. As she got closer to the Fat Lady's portrait, Ron and Seamus were coming out of the Common Room. Hermione hesitated for a microsecond, then walked past without looking at either of them, continuing in a swift pace up to her dorm where she lay down on her bed and closed her eyes.

"You alright," Ginny asked and Hermione mashed her lips together in annoyance.

"Fine," she said, hoping that was terse enough to ensure Ginny understood she wasn't extending and invitation to discuss this further. She listened as Ginny shuffled around a bit.

"Hogsmeade weekend next weekend. Should be good to get out of the castle for a bit. Are you going to go?"

"Don't know," Hermione responded, then thought better of it. She wasn't going to be chased away. "I suppose I'll go for a butterbeer or something."

"Cool. We can go together."

Ginny left and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She needed to get a hold of herself and refuse to become a recluse. These were her friends and they could just deal with what happened, and if they refused, like Ron did, that was their problem not hers.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Ron sat away from them with Dean and Seamus, while she sat with Harry, Ginny and Padma. Hermione knew that Padma really wanted to ask her what her time with Malfoy was like, but restrained herself because Harry was there. She would occasionally turn around and sneak a glance at the Slytherin table, a table which Hermione had pretended plain didn't exist.

She'd been ignoring Malfoy long before the 'incident', mainly because Harry had been so suspicious of Draco this year, but Harry was utterly convinced Malfoy was a victim in this thing as well, which meant there was now someone else to watch for.

Hermione refused to look at Ron, who equally refused to acknowledge that he'd been a complete cowpat. The rift had extended down the whole of Gryffindor house and Hermione wasn't sure it could ever be fixed. Well, she didn't need friends who didn't support her when something like this happened. It was good to know who her friends were.

Packing up in the library, Hermione put her books away, decided it was time to head back to her room for the night. She wasn't the last person there, glancing over at some distressed looking third year, who obviously had an assignment due in the morning.

The halls were quiet and most had returned to their common room as curfew was just coming up. The walls echoed with her steps as she walked along the corridor toward the part of the castle where the Gryffindor common room was.

She saw the shadow of a person coming around the corner before she saw the actual person, who ended up being tall and blond. Her step froze as she realised she'd almost bumped into Malfoy. She had nowhere to escape to and neither did he.

They just stared at each other for a moment. She couldn't believe that not so long ago, he had been the one person she'd been closer to than anyone else. He looked shocked to see her, before his face clouded over and he resumed his look of arrogant indifference.

"You better get back to your common room before curfew," he said.

No threat followed, she noted. Normally he was so keen to point the consequences of her bad behaviour. Hermione wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind. They, under normal circumstances, didn't talk. They didn't know each other and didn't like each other, even though he'd been her one and only for a short time during a potion induced flight. And now he stood in her way, looking smart and rich like it always did.

She'd been in love with him; his body belonging to her and visa versa. An unnatural and false state. He looked exactly the same. His lips and eyes, his hands, his waist, which she had circled her arms around, drawing him close.

Hermione cleared her throat, feeling confused and mortified. He looked very uncomfortable as well, which made her wonder, for the first time what he thought of the whole thing. Scrap that; she didn't want to know.

He stepped aside and let her pass, looking past her into the distance as she did. Hermione strode down the corridor without looking back. That had been teeth-shatteringly awkward. He was completely familiar and alien at the same time. Memories from their time together washed through her mind. His voice. The way he'd kissed her.

Hermione had to stop and draw breath. She didn't know how to deal with all these things, and now a moment she'd dreaded had happened. But at least it was done and it hadn't been a complete horror show. Malfoy could have made that meeting a whole lot worse. Maybe it would have been better if he had, so she could be reminded what a complete turd he was, overwriting these stupid memories.

She tried to think back about all the awful things about him, cataloguing them. He was a bully; he'd glee fully waited for Buckbeak's execution before she'd punched him. He'd called her mudblood, making sure everyone heard it. And he'd dobbed them in to Umbridge; his maliciousness evident throughout. And from what she'd heard, he'd wished the basilisk would killed her, above all else.

Now she was stuck with all these conflicting memories of him. How was it even possible that he was capable of sweetness, or intimacy, when he was such a complete … She couldn't even find the word for it. She'd written him off as unsalvageable, a cartoonish figure who represented everything bad about Wizarding society—racist, arrogant, deceptive and malicious.

She'd given herself to him completely and she wanted someone to suffer for having done this to her—to them both. Actually, she didn't care about Malfoy, hoping he felt dirty and sullied by the experience. Covering her face, she swore. He'd been inside her. Someone had forced the most intimate of relationships on them and she'd given what she wasn't ready to give, to anyone.

If she was completely honest with herself, she would have to admit that they'd also stolen the potential relationship she had with Ron as well—who she'd thought her future might have been with, but that was gone now. She'd lost both her friend and the potential boyfriend.

Feeling tears rise again, she sought out a quiet alcove. Everything about this sucked.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next week was awful. Ron was sulking, and Hermione was angry. The whole house was strained and uncomfortable and the assignments were started to get on top of him, thought Harry as he sat at one of the desks staring at a blank piece of parchment. Snow was falling outside making everything look bright after the weeks of darkness and pervasive rain as late autumn was setting in.

At the beginning of the year they had said they were all staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, but neither Ron nor Hermione wanted to stay now. Ginny wasn't staying, and Harry would miss her, particularly the evenings they spent together, kissing in some dark corner of the castle.

At least they had Hogsmeade this weekend, a chance to get away from the oppressive atmosphere. Not that they would be sitting in the Three Broomsticks together like they used to, drinking butter beers and laughing. He just wanted it all to go back the way it was before this rift had been driven between them.

Dumbledore was gone most of the time and Harry knew they were being kept in the dark about what was happening out there. A general unease was settling over the whole wizard world and Harry didn't know where this was all going to end, except the prophesy that said that he would end up having to take care of Voldemort, or the other way around—which was more likely. But he put that all aside, because right now, he had to write a Defence of the Dark Arts assignment, which he would score poorly on no matter what he wrote.

"You ready to go," Ginny asked, having come down from the stairs from the girl's dorm.

"Yes," he said, flicking his quill onto the blank parchment. "Maybe some time away from here will give me inspiration." He wished he could find a book that told him everything he needed to know about this class too, but no such luck.

Ginny was dressed in a thick woollen sweater and hat, looking uncomfortable in the warmth of the common room. "Let's go," she said and urged him to the portrait guarding the entrance to the common room.

There was a stream of people out of the castle, heading down the road toward Hogsmeade. The atmosphere was light and festive as many were buying Christmas presents.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked.

"She's coming later."

"And Ron?"

"He's already gone with Dean."

Harry nodded, listening to the snow crunch under his feet. At least things between him and Ginny were going good, but he hands were well frozen by the time he made it to the village. They went straight to the Three Broomsticks, which smelled a bit like wet dog when they walked in. A fire was roaring in the large fireplace, heating the whole place, making it very humid with all the moisture people were bringing in with them.

They spotted Ron, Dean and Seamus in one of the corner tables and joined them as they talked about Quidditch technique. It was nice. It felt normal, for a moment. Later on he spotted Hermione walking along with some of the girls, heading off to Honeydukes.

Harry wondered if this rift was fixable. For a moment everything seemed normal on the surface, but then the mood darkened as the Slytherins entered the pub, congregating at the bar, ordering their butter beers and chatting sulkily. Malfoy was there with his back turned to him, his blond hair gleaming in the firelight. Harry could feel Ron tense as he stared into Malfoy's back, who ignored the attention if he was cognizant of it.

"Should we pick up some stuff from Honeydukes before we head back?" Harry asked, wondering if having Ron and Hermione in the same space was more awkward than having Ron and Malfoy in close proximity.

"Yeah," Ron said, pushing his empty tankard away from him. Dean swigged the last of his and they all stood up, striding though the crowd as they headed to the door, gaining pointed looks from the Slytherins as they did.

The cool air outside was almost refreshing after the oppressive heat of the pub. "They're such wankers," Dean said.

"Nothing new there, mate," Seamus said. "In two years, we'll never have to see them again. Can you imagine?"

They all grew quiet at the thought that they would leave this place shortly. One and a half years and they were done with their schooling.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione seemed to have cleared out of Honeydukes by the time they make it in, then feeling really guilty for being happy at her absence. Pushing past congregating lower year students for whom Honeydukes was the be all and end all of a day out, they made their way into the crowded shop. Harry wasn't really in the mood for sweets, but recognised that it was good to be away from the Slytherins.

The girls, however, were outside, standing around in a group, looking at something Parvati had bought. They awkwardly merged and they chatted for a while, but again the tension rose as the Slytherins emerged on the street, walking past. Malfoy looking bored and uninterested at the far side of the group.

"Wanker," Ron said, louder than he should have.

"What did you say?" Marcus Flint challenged.

"I said 'Wanker'," Ron said more clearly.

"Ron!" Ginny chided.

"Watch your mouth, Weasley," Flint warmed.

"Or what?" Ron said, straightening out.

Now it was Harry turn to try to reel Ron in. "Leave them, Ron."

Malfoy stood back, not interested in the verbal scuffle, which was a new tact for him as he was normally the first to be in there with the insults, but perhaps he had matured a bit.

"Let's go," Hermione said, tugging on Harry's arm and he was about to relent.

"No, no one wants them here," Ron said.

"If someone's going to decide who gets to be here, it isn't going to be you, Weasley. Societies never bows down to the dregs."

"Let's pretend you aren't all going to spend your lives in prison, like your parents," Ron said bitterly, which actually was a better come back than Ron was normally capable of, but Ron was going all out for picking a fight. It was a quibb clearly aimed at Malfoy and his looked over at Ron with narrowed eyes. "Face it, we are the ones who are going to be running this place."

"We'll still be pleasing your women though," Malfoy said, his tone as haughty as only he was capable of. "Because let's face it, you're just upset because I'm the one that popped the Gryffindor princesses' cherry."

Harry could hear a small gasp of indignity from Hermione, but Ron had turned purple with rage. He lunged for Malfoy, swinging as he went. Malfoy was too fast for the swing and everyone stood back as no one else quite knew what to do. Ron charged again and Malfoy deflected his charge, sending Ron scramble to the ground. Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm as he brought out his wand and got a punch from Flint for his efforts. Crabbe and Goyle were grabbing Ron, ready to punch his lights out, forcing Dean and Seamus to step in as well. It was properly kicking of when Hermione stepped into the middle between Ron and Malfoy.

Turning to Malfoy, she stood tall, her mouth tight like a drawn purse. "Just. Go." She said sharply, staring Malfoy in the eyes. After a moment that stretched out, he took a step back, still looking defiant and arrogant, before turning and stalking away from the group.

It took the hot air out of the fight and rest stood looking around awkwardly before the Slytherins decided to follow their leader. Malfoy was still the leader it seemed, that much was apparent by them following him suit.

Harry felt adrenalin coursing through his veins. They had almost had a full on fight, something they'd managed to avoid for a long time, primarily because Malfoy was cowardly. He hadn't acted cowardly now; he had pushed Ron over the edge and had been ready for a fight—if it hadn't been for Hermione stepping in, and Malfoy doing as she bid. Now that was something he'd never expected to see and it told of some remaining link between them.

Turing to Hermione, he saw her looking after the Slytherins as they walked away. She looked drawn in that way she did when she was upset. "You're an idiot, Ron," she said sharply.

Ron only grumbled and got up, shrugging himself off before stalking off in the other direction.

"He's out of control," Ginny said, her voice shaky with concern and unshed tears. "Do you want to go back?" she said turning to Hermione, who nodded and started walking away. "You better see to him," Ginny said to him, "so he doesn't do anything more stupid."

Harry nodded and started running in the direction Ron had gone, cursing as he went as their nice weekend had turned to complete shit. Ron took a bit of finding and he found him pacing around the perimeter of the Shrieking Shack, his arms tucked tightly into his armpits. "Fucking wanker," Ron yelled. "Did you hear him?"

"He was riling you up, Ron."

"If he goes near her, I'm going to kill him."

Harry sighed, sitting down on a cold boulder. If anything they didn't understand the remnants of what had happened between Malfoy and Hermione, but it wasn't a topic he could discuss with Ron, now or probably ever. Maybe Hermione would open up about it at some point, even though Harry was pretty sure he didn't want to hear about it. "Just calm down, mate," he said to the still agitated redhead.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Standing in front of the mirror, Draco fixed the black bow tie which finished off his dress robes. His hair looked good, as did his clothes. He looked cold. These robes had just been delivered from Italy this morning, just in time for the Yule Ball tonight. He was going with Pansy, not that he really wanted to, but he didn't want to deal with the blushing and gushing that went along with taking someone else.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he wondered what he'd come to. Last year, all he wanted to do was sink into something new and willing, and now he was jaded, not able to deal with the bother. He needed to get laid tonight. It wasn't something he felt thrilled about; he just needed to take care of his needs and that was an extra bit of tension he didn't need right now.

The image of Granger's toned thighs floated into his mind, but he pushed it away. That had been the last time he hadn't felt jaded—under the influence of a potion, he'd committed wholeheartedly. It was a feeling he hadn't had since and he wasn't entirely sure he would again. A perverse voice told him he could repeat it—steal her away like they had planned at the time. Not that he would; it had been an impulse of the potions.

He'd worked very hard not to think of her and he'd succeeded most of the time. Weasley was going spare and Draco smiled at the antics of the ridiculous boy, knowing he'd taken Granger away from him, and Weasley was not one to forgive. Turning his head, he wondered what he would do if the tables had been turned. Then again, he'd never been into someone like Weaselby was into Granger.

If he'd thought of it, he might have pulled a stunt like this himself had he considered the impact it would have. Not that Granger would ever let him near her and her supple thighs of her own accord.

Pansy was waiting outside, wearing light pink. It suited her colour and the material floated around her thighs. "You look good, Draco," she said in her lazy drawl.

"I know."

Pansy smiled. She always liked it when he was arrogant. "Shall we go?"

"If you wish."

The Great Hall was lit up and decorated like a Christmas cracker. It snowed, but not naturally as it was still fairly warm inside. The teachers all looked ridiculous, except Snape who looked exactly the same. Draco felt the man's eyes following him as they always did these days.

Potter was there with the Weasley girl, and Weaselby himself was there with Lavender Brown, who was wearing a ruffled concoction of accordance with her namesake. Now that was interesting, which only left one question: Who would Granger show up with?

Pansy tugged at his sleeve to dance, but he lazily pulled his arm out of her grip, ignoring her whine of annoyance. Taking a seat, he watched the proceedings for a while, nursing the firewhiskey in his hip flask. It struck him that Granger might not come.

But then, there she was, coming on her own. She wore an aqua marine dress that worked well with her skin and hair. She looked slightly nervous and uncomfortable, but she held her head high. He'd seen that look before. He'd been the recipient of that look many times.

Something in him was pleased she was here alone. There was a certain residual possessiveness that was glad to see that he had yet to be replaced. That something wanted to be a feature in her mind, refusing to leave her alone and haunting her dreams.

He hated her. He hated everyone here, without exception.

As he watched, she spotted Ron with his clingy date. Ron looked slightly green around the gill, aware of the statement he was making. Draco smiled, knowing that was the deathknell to the Granger/Weasley pairing—well that particular pairing anyway. There was always the chance the one of the others stepped in now that Weaselby stepped back.

Granger stared for a while, uncertain what to do. "Run, little girl," he said under his breath, but she stuck her nose up like she always did when her pride was hurt and walked towards Harry and Ginny—towards safety.

There was an urge in him to mess with her, make her doubt herself and run away. But he wouldn't—he had other things to do and getting that damned box fixed was highest. Torturing Granger would have to be a hobby for the future.

He spent the entire evening sitting, watching, twisting the napkin next to him into tortured forms, bored out of his mind. Pansy would intermittently sulk next to him, but knew he wanted to be left alone.

Not being able to stand it anymore, he walked out into the snow, leaning against the freezing cold wall, in the shadows next to a doorway where the noise and music from the ball could still be heard. He wondered if he'd ever enjoy something inane like this again.

It was bitterly cold outside, but the moon shone blue onto the snow, creating a strange light. He was much more comfortable out here in the cold than in there doing teenage things. He didn't feel like a teenager anymore. The world had come calling and he was ready. It felt like a waste of time being here, but then he was only here to fix that damned box.

Hearing footsteps, he watched Granger step out of the doorway. She hadn't seen him as she stood on the pathway, her arms wrapped around her and looking down at her feet.

"Need some air, Granger?" he said, keeping his tone cool and distant. "Watching Weaselby slobbering over that girl getting to you?"

She turned to him, but didn't say anything. "I just need some air," she said after a while.

Draco frowned. He knew that voice, he'd felt its resonance and he resented its soft unfurling along his skin. "Think he'll try his luck with her tonight? She looks keen enough."

"Well, he's managing better than you are," she said tartly and he smiled. He knew she had bite in her that she would only bring out when under pressure, thinking it was beneath her. She could be cruel too, and she'd looked for him that night. A microsecond frisson of revelation flitted through him.

"I've pretty much slept with every girl here, including you," he said, unable to completely let the insult to his prowess pass.

"Have you slept with Lavender Brown?"

"I do have some standard."

"My, Malfoy, did you actually pay me a backhanded compliment?"

"If it wasn't for the fact that I was out of my mind."

"Believe me, both of us. And as such, it isn't much to brag about."

He knew he was referring to the incident in Hogsmeade. He wasn't proud that Weaselby had got a rise out of him, but the little shit had goaded him into it.

He stopped his ridiculous impulse to say that she was too good for the little shit. "I'll give it a go now and tell you how I feel about it afterwards."

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she said and strode past him, her face scrunched up like she did when he insulted her.

Leaning back on the wall, he chuckled. Granger would never let him take her up against the wall here, knowing exactly the reaction he would get to his suggestion. He considered whether going inside and dragging some random girl out so he could enact his little suggestion, but didn't in the end.

Granger was even more determined on having a good time when he returned to the Great Hall; he could see it on her. She was dancing, pretending at not being completely miserable underneath. Draco didn't stay, instead returning to his room and laying down on his bed enjoying the quiet of the near empty house.

The train was leaving early the next day and the weather was sufficiently fine to walk. He was heading home to shit—Bellatrix, the Dark Lord and his father desperately intent on securing their family's future from his prison cell. People not ensuring their place in the future would suffer for it later. It wasn't pleasant by any means, but it was inevitable. Granger and her kind had no place and she, along with the others, would have to retreat back to the muggle world, where they belonged. To prove his point, he spotted her in in the crush, wearing her muggle clothes, looking out of place.

Neither Potter nor Weasley was on the train. Granger sat with Longbottom and the Weasley girl in a compartment. He'd seen them enter. Taking a compartment on the other side of the train, he sat with the rest of the upper year Slytherins. He knew none of them wanted to come over to his place during the vacation, except Crabbe and Goyle, who were really too stupid to understand the dangers. But it was the risk that would reap reward in the long run.

Stepping out onto the crowded platform at King's cross, he noticed with relief that his mother wasn't there. He didn't know if that was bad or good, but for right now, he would do without it. He watched as Granger walked past, in her dreadful clothes. She gave him a sharp, disapproving look as she did and he grinned back at her. She probably shouldn't mess with him, but she didn't seem to understand that.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Draco Malfoy had changed. He'd become darker and more introverted, and it worsened after Christmas. Theo Nott made his way into potions with Slughorn. He missed the easy ride Snape would give them, but it wasn't the end of the world—they were just called on the sloppiness of their work more now while before, if they were in the right area in terms of answer, Snape was fine with it. Placing his bag down on the table where the other Slytherins sat, he waited for class to start. Theo had gone home over Christmas and spend most of it alone, which was fine by him. He wasn't sure his father even knew he was there, but then he was busy doing the Dark Lord's bidding.

Theo's father had never involved him, being under the impression that he was still a child, but Theo knew that his time would come before long, when they would call for him. He'd never embraced it like Draco had, or seemingly promoted, but Draco was suffering for it now. Theo suspected it hadn't worked out to be the summit of superiority Draco had expected before it really started; it was just nasty, grasping and subservience, and it went against Theo's grain.

He'd considered leaving Britain. His father would be disappointed with him and he would likely be disinherited, but Theo wasn't sure he cared. It would mean foregoing the family fortune, which sadly was the rub which his hesitation rested on.

"We will be working in teams for the next few months," Slughorn said, smiling kindly in that annoying way that made Theo want to smash him. He had nothing against the old man; he was just fundamentally annoying.

Theo and Draco eyed each other and Blaise swore, knowing he would be paired with Millicent Bulstrode as Draco would naturally turn toward Theo's talent with potions. Draco wasn't bad; he was better than Blaise and they all knew it.

But then Slughorn, in his constant strive to be difficult to bear, paired them off with people they were unlikely to pair with on their own, but also with people on the same level intellectually and Theo got none other than the Gryffindor know it all. He felt Draco tense beside him and he smiled.

Theo didn't know Granger; he'd never really had a problem with her. She was good at potions and it would be interesting working with her from that perspective. More interesting was the impact she had on Malfoy. As much as Draco tried to hide it, their little drug induced fuck fest had more of an impact on him than he would acknowledge. Theo knew this because Draco had gone silent on the subject of the Gryffindor darling—for the first time in Theo's memory.

Draco was paired with Susan Bones who groaned out her dismay with the pairing. Susan had apparently gotten over her 5th year crush on Malfoy and was now aware of the downside to being stuck with a sulky bully for the foreseeable future.

Picking up his things, Theo swung his bag over his shoulder and was about to make his way over to the Gryffindor side of the classroom, but then changed his mind. No the better option was to bring her over to this side. Turning to her, he indicated a space on the table over and swung his bag back down, waiting for her to come over. He saw her straighten her back and come over.

"Partner," he said when she sat down next to him. Draco's eyes were on them the entire time, as Susan dragged herself over to sit in Nott's vacated seat without getting so much as an acknowledgement from Draco.

Granger nodded. This should actually be interesting, and not just because this gave him umpteen opportunities to fuck with Draco. Working with her might actually be challenging and he was looking forward to that, being used to being the one who had to drag others along.

"Nott," she said. "Any preferences for what project we take on? We could take on something easy or something hard." He could hear the challenge in her voice and he knew he would likely not get the opportunity to work with someone like her again. The part of him that thrived in the academic things was itching to do something meaty.

"Something hard would mean something more complex than a simple potion."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Something that uses external influence."

"That would mean introducing a charm as well."

"It would." This would be exploring a part of magic that had been underdevelopment, but that was where the excitement was. "Like feeling someone else's pain."

"As in giving access to someone else's psyche. My, that is probably getting to know you more than I ever intended to, Nott," she said dismissively.

Leaning close to her, he whispered, "Chicken."

He watched her react to his challenge. Her bravery being called into question was one of her pressure point; it was a general Gryffindor pressure point, but for some reason they couldn't seem to understand this and always fell for it. "And I would get to know you," she said in return, turning to him. The concept of getting into her and visa versa; he couldn't help his mind turning to the physical—to what she was like.

He reined in his thoughts. She was dangerous in this day and age, particularly if he went too far. The idea of messing with Draco was beyond tempting, but getting to close to Granger, particularly without the excuse of a love potion would have consequences beyond the walls of the school. But playing with someone who was essentially his equal academically was exciting. Maybe he could mess with Draco without going too far. "I'm game."

Granger was chewing her lip furiously as she considered him. She wanted to, but she was thinking through all the risks and consequences. "Alright," she said after a while and Theo turned to Draco, smiling broadly.

They hit the research hard for a few weeks until they identified a method that could establish a connection between psyches. There was plenty of magic in that space, but for different purposes. They spent every night in the library and he found he didn't regret the time. It was the first time he didn't have to lead someone along, come up with all the ideas and then having to justify why they were good.

Then it was time to start experimenting, seeing if they can establish a connection, something stripped down to merely physical. A spiky ball served as the pain mechanism. It was an exercise in trust, which made it more exciting, because neither was entirely sure they could trust the other, but they were both daring themselves to.

Buying a butterbeer, Theo sat down at the typical Slytherin table in the Three Broomsticks. The others had gone to the shops, so it was just him, Draco and Blaise, who was tongue deep in some fifth year girl's mouth.

"How's the project going?" Draco asked as Theo knew he would.

"Good," Theo said. "We're experimenting with mental connections. It's an interesting project. Like a stripped own version of Imperious."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Granger can rebel the Imperious."

"That's not the point though, is it? She's letting me in. I've felt her heart beat."

Draco's mouth was thin as a line and he turned away. Theo could see pale spots of pink on his cheeks.

"She's cool," Theo said, leaning back and taking a sip from his butterbeer.

"She's a mudblood," Draco said.

Draco knew Theo was having a go at him; it was beyond obvious, but it still grated. He hated that they worked so well together and he hated how Theo seemed to just shrug off his pureblood identity. Maybe it wasn't so much that he was jealous of the project they had, or that they were spending time together—more that Theo could just let go of everything and ignore the context of who he was and what that meant.

Theo had to be careful or his happy time playing partners with a mudblood was going to come back and bite him. Dark days were coming and they would envelop Theo as much as everyone else.

Closing his eyes, Draco fought the darkness that lay at the edge of his consciousness. Bad things were coming and they would come for her and anyone who protected her would go down with it.

He'd felt her heartbeat. Draco felt anger that made want to move, but he fought it and cooly considered his housemate. Theo might have sensed it, but Draco had felt it. He'd felt it in her mouth, on her neck with his lips; he'd felt it with his hands and he'd felt it when she convulsed around him as he'd been buried deep inside her.

Whatever Theo had, it would never compare—unless they were stupid. Theo could keep up with her, challenge her and draw her attention. Theo provided the thing that Potter or Weasleby never could: an intellectual challenge. And Theo could step away from everything else, something Draco couldn't do. Raw jealousy flooded his body like molasses, even though he knew Nott was doing this all to goad him. The fact that Nott was mistake as to the impact didn't lessen it. It wasn't Granger's attention that he was jealous of, because Draco knew without a doubt that he could take that away from Nott in a heartbeat. It was Nott's ability to receive it that twisted Draco's gut. But Draco also knew that Nott wouldn't succumb to it as long as Nott's focus was on goading him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Working with Nott was surprisingly good. He was intelligent, friendly and he worked hard. Hermione, thought it was nice to be with someone she didn't have to push and prod all the time, for who she was the boring one always begging them to do some work. Nott enjoyed the work. Alright, there were some things he said that made her eyebrows rise, but he was a Slytherin after all and she couldn't completely forget that.

This time they spent on this project got her thinking of the future though, her working life—the one she'd been preparing for all these years. She wanted to work with people who like that they did. So far she'd only found Nott, but it was problematic of some theoretical future when there was a very real future fast approaching, which didn't involve such mundane things like working environment and colleagues. The real future was grim and no matter how things played out, Nott was likely to be on the other side. His father was a Death Eater after all and from what she heard, a committed one. She didn't understand how sons of Death Eaters could be such agreeable characters, when their families were utterly evil.

Then there was the other son of a known Death Eater. He …—she still couldn't quite get a handle on him. Whenever he entered her mind, her emotions rushed off into the indescribable as soon as she did. It was just easier not to think about it. She hadn't seen that much of him of late, but increasingly, it had felt more like an issue on pause.

Packing up her things in the library, she said goodbye to Nott, who was actually staying to do some other work. What a novelty, not being the last in the library. The corridors were deserted this time of the evening and the castle was peaceful.

When she made it into the porthole, Harry was sitting on the couch watching the fire, looking glum.

"What's the matter," she asked.

"I was just thinking of Sirius," he said, crossing his arms as he leant back into the sofa.

Hermione sighed. She wished Sirius was one thing Harry could have been left with. She knew Harry really needed a father figure, someone who would give him strength and reassurance. He'd lost so much.

Looking out the window, she saw nothing but dark night. The clouds were gathering outside. It was going to rain tomorrow.

"I heard about your project with Nott," Harry said after a while. "What are you doing letting a Slytherin play with your mind? I thought you'd had enough dealing with the Slytherins of late."

"I didn't pick him as a partner," Hermione defended herself, and she didn't appreciate the reminder regarding the other Slytherin. Harry didn't have to warn her of the consequences of that; it wasn't like she'd forgotten.

"And letting him play with your mind. What were you thinking?"

"We're looking at the concept of feeling someone else's pain. I thought it might be helpful to know more about the mechanics. I was trying to help you. Maybe give us something to use again Voldemort." That had been her intention when she agreed to it.

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "You can't trust them. Any of them."

"I know that," she said defensively.

"Has he revealed anything important," Harry said hesitantly. Harry always had to keep track of the bigger picture and Hermione understood that.

"Not really. From what I gather, his relationship with his father is not good, and I think he feels conflicted about how things are developing."

"We can't trust him."

"I know. I wasn't about to betray all our secrets."

"But you're giving him access to your mind. He could pull out anything he wanted. Rifle through all your memories at will."

"He isn't. I am being careful. And if he was that skilled that he could do it without me noticing, then he wouldn't need this project to do it."

Harry conceded her point.

Hermione met Nott outside the Great Hall after lunch the next day. They'd run into a block in the project and they had to work out how to deal with it. So far they were stumped as they, through their potion and charm, only ended up feeling the other's person temperature sensing. She could feel if he touched something hot or cold, but they hadn't been able to tap in to pain.

He pulled her quietly aside. "There is this book I know of that deals with control spells."

"Oh?" Hermione said, suspecting this was not a book in the Hogwarts library where studying the art of taking control of other people was not recommended reading.

"Obviously, slightly illegal."

"Rather."

"But it could give us some ideas how to crack this problem."

Hermione bit her lip. Curiosity bit at her sides, even though she knew they would be in trouble if it was known they consulted such books. But this was for the sake of research. "How do we get this book?"

"I have it, but it's not something we can pull out in the library. And I don't want to be walking around the halls with it, so if you want to look at it, you will have to come to my room—or just leave me to do it."

As much as she should say no, she was dead curious to see one of these illegal books that she'd never managed to get her hands on, but had read references to. "Where did it come from?"

"It's my fathers."

She felt an irrational stab of jealousy that the Slytherins had access to all these books that were forbidden for her. She understood why they were forbidden, but they still had academic value. "And your room is in the Slytherin house."

"Thank you for pointing that out. I wasn't sure."

"And I should just walk into Slytherin House. Won't I catch fire walking through your porthole?"

Nott smiled. "I think there used to be such a curse, but I think they had to get rid of it. There was actually this Slytherin mudblood about a century ago, so they had to get rid of it."

"Progress comes to everyone, I guess." Hermione had never heard of this Slytherin. Poor person. Talk about an identity crisis. Maybe she should research it. "Lead the way then."

She couldn't believe she was entering the Slytherin dungeon. She certainly hadn't expected that when she'd gotten up this morning. Funny how some days develop. Swallowing the lump of nervousness in her throat, she was walked into the Slytherin dungeon, which was through a set of doors rather than a porthole. The whole place was green, lit by the lake above them, visible through glass in the roof. "Cosy," she said.

"We like it. This way." Nott led her through the common room and back to the dorms. Taking her to a room, again lit by the lake.

"You have your own room?"

"Once you hit fifth year."

"That's so unfair."

"Well, we have a whole lake to expand across, so there is plenty of room. A tower is more confining, but you guys like being all snuggle up, don't you?"

"Who doesn't like snuggling?" she said, knowing she was teasing him. I liked to play with his stereotypes of Gryffindors.

Hermione looked around the room which was fairly bare. She jealously surveyed the desk that was all his. That she could have used, her own desk.

"It's over here," he said, pulling a trunk out from under his bed. He gave the book to her and she immediately started studying its contents. She'd never read a book aimed at teaching someone how to be awful, but it made it fascinating. It was a thorough study too.

She didn't know how long she was engrossed in the book when she was disturbed by a knock on the door. In a panic, she didn't know what to do with the illegal book in her hands.

"It's ok," Nott said from where he was lying on the bed, watching her casually. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Malfoy standing in his Quidditch gear. "I thought …" he started, but stopped when he spotted her. "What's she doing here?" he demanded.

"I am corrupting her," Nott said lazily. "With illegal literature."

"She doesn't belong here," Malfoy said, looking harsh and almost disgusted. Hermione felt her heckles rise.

"She is my guest," Nott said sharply.

"You need to leave," Malfoy said turning to her.

"We're working on a project. Maybe you should leave," she shot back.

"Get your whore out of here," he ordered Nott and left.

Hermione threw the book from her and charged after Malfoy, hitting him in the back when she caught up with him walking down the corridor. "How dare you?" she screamed, hitting him again when he turned around, getting him in the face this time. She wasn't holding back, she just kept hitting him with all of her strength. Unfortunately his Quidditch padding was dampening some of the blows.

Grabbing her wrists, he forced them painfully behind her back. "Get back in your room," Malfoy ordered to someone looking out to see what the commotion was.

Hermione cried out with the painful pressure on her wrist.

"Malfoy," Nott warned, standing in the doorway of his room.

"Fuck off," Malfoy said and manhandled her away, down to his room, where he kicked the door open, then closed. They were alone and Hermione struggled, her ragged breaths bouncing off the stone wall she body and face were now smushed toward. He had her in a vice grip with his arm around her chest, holding her arms down.

He released her grip slightly, but he didn't let her go. There was something so familiar in being embraced by him, something achingly comforting. She renewed her struggle and his grip tightened. "Let go of me!" she ordered, but he didn't move. He wasn't going to let go until she calmed, but releasing her anger only left other emotions in its wake—harder emotions.

Finally he let her go and she spun around. He stood a few feet away. Reining in her anger, she swung at him again, but he blocked the blow. She tried again, but he blocked. Anger drove her forward and they struggled for a while until he managed to catch her wrists again and force them behind her. He was fundamentally stronger than her and now they stood front to front, her pressed to him. She refused to look at him, hating the familiarity, the fact that there was still something in her that found comfort in being near him. She felt utterly betrayed, by herself and by him.

Slowly, she turned her wrists in his grip and he let go. Stepping back she finally looked at him. His face was drawn. She refused to cry in front of him, but she wasn't far off. "Fuck you," she said and marched to the door.

"You alright?" Nott said when she emerged from Draco's room.

"Fine," she said walking past him and out past the Slytherin common room, and she didn't stop until she was well out of the castle, away from everyone.


End file.
